


The Black Tower

by Enide_Dear



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:24:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7714756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enide_Dear/pseuds/Enide_Dear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Saruman makes a grave mistake. Legolas is trying to save the ring, but what can save him? Written from Sarumans and Gandalfs perspectives respectively. </p><p>Warning: Extreme suffering, rape, BDSM, violence, AU (The Fellowship tries to pass through the gap of Isengard instead of Moria, and are caught by Uruks) No fluff, not for the faint of heart!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

If I could find the words then I would write it all down  
If I could only find a voice I would speak  
Oh it's there in my eyes so can't you see me tonight  
C'mon and look at me and read 'em and weep

 

Saruman:  
I had never thought I would experience such wild feelings of triumph; not that I ever doubted my ability to fulfil my bargain with Sauron. Yet the wave of self-righteous pride that surged through me when I finally saw my old enemy, captured and bound, his mission failed as I knew it would, almost made me laugh out loud.   
My Uruk-hai had captured all the nine of their pathetic Fellowship close to the Gap of Rohan, not many miles from my own Orthanc. They must have thought they could sneak by, but the crebains spotted them, and then it was just a matter of time until they were here, brought in front of me in one of the uppermost rooms of my black tower. 

They looked about as miserable as they deserved - arrogant bastards to think they could actually stand up against Sauron - but now they where in various states of despair and fright. The Uruk-hai had beaten them up a bit, but not too much; not compared to what awaited them once Sauron knew they were here and I turned them over to Him. 

\- So. I wandered down the row of my prisoners; unarmed and with their arms bound behind their backs, each one with an Uruk-hai standing behind and holding them back, they looked a pathetic and helpless lot. I let my heavy metal staff drag along their chests, bouncing on their ribs.   
\- One elf, four hobbits, a dwarf and two men. Were *these* the best you could conjure up, Gandalf? Was *this* the ones you thought could master Sauron himself? You were ever such a fool. 

I stopped in front of him, pushing his head up with the staff, forcing him to meet my eyes, to see the total failure he had led his mission to. I had expected to see despair in his eyes, but he never did know when he was defeated, and his eyes still gleamed with hope. 

\- If you listen to the words of the Dark Lord, you are the fool, Saruman, he said as defiant and arrogant as ever. You do not really think he will let you live after he has the Ring in his power again? He will squash you like the insignificant insect you are to him. But there is still time to turn the tide! Your faults can still be mended. Help us destroy the Ring, and you will still be one of the most powerful people in the world…

\- Silence! I swung my staff around, bringing it down heavy on the side of his head; he staggered and would have fallen if not for the Uruk-hai behind him who had held him up. A large red gash appeared over his ear, blood started welling down. I was slightly surprised that the strike did not kill him, or at least render him unconscious, but at least I got the pleasure of seeing a flash of fear and pain in his eyes. 

A wave of upset shouts and desperate attempts to break free went through the rest of the Fellowship, but was quickly and rather brutally subdued by the Uruk-hai. I ignored them. 

\- Your idea of a Ringbearer was doomed to fail from the start, old fool. I revelled in the fear in his eyes; I don’t think he had realised before what kind of danger he was really in.   
\- Who did you think you could fool with this little parade of species anyway? I have known whom he was since first I set eyes on your pathetic Fellowship. You are not very subtle, are you, Gand*alf*? 

I saw the surprise in his eyes and it really annoyed me. How stupid did he hold me to be?  
Without as much as granting him another look, I turned and walked to the other end of the prison row, past the men and the dwarf. The four hobbits recoiled when I walked past them, their obvious fear giving new fire to my warm sense of triumph. Why should I bother how daft Gandalf thought me to be? He was here and could do nothing but watch helplessly as I took the Ring. In the end I had turned out the winner.   
I stopped in front of the person last in the row, and saw the same glimmer of surprise in his eyes, blue as a summer sky. Did they all take me for a fool? Well, who was the fool now?

\- Give it to me, I demanded. Or I will be forced to take it. 

\- I can not stop you from taking anything now, but you will never find me giving you anything either. Defiance blazed in his eyes.

\- Really? I could not stop myself from laughing at his innocence. It was such a thrill, to have the Ringbearer here, in front of me, at the mercy of my every whim. The potentially most powerful being on Middle Earth, and now he could not even reach his treasure. 

It was an extremely arousing situation, and it did not get any worse by the fact that he was an elf. 

I have made the study of the twenty Rings of power my life’s work, and with the obvious exception of the One Ring, the three Rings of the Elves always fascinated me the most, as did their people. Without comparison they are the strongest, proudest and wisest of all people, and to hide the attraction I felt for them, and attraction as close to possessiveness as my want for their Rings, was never easy. Yet I had to hide it, to ignore my feelings and never even make an attempt to get what I wanted, for if Galadriel or Elrond ever found out they would lead all of their people in a war against me. I always wanted power, ultimate power, over individuals as well as the world, and this is the hidden core in me, the one I have hidden under endless years.

But the time of restrictions was over; never again would I have to repress my desires. 

The elf recoiled and tried to back away when I pushed my hands under his tunic and shirt, but he could not get away with the Uruk-hai standing behind him, holding him down. The Uruk-hai, children of my own mind, started to leer and shout as my hands found their way over the firm muscles of the elf’s chest, the perfect, unblemished skin, and the nipples, soft as velvet buttons under my fingers and nails. Their shouts got even more lecherous and taunting when he vainly tried to break free or move away, repulsion clear in his fair face, but it did nothing to lessen my appetite, if anything it roused it even more. 

\- No secret pockets on your clothes, I mumbled with my face so close to his that I forced him to breath in my air, no chain around your neck. Now, where can it be?

He suddenly got very still when I shoved my hands down his trousers, and his eyes got very large with a new fear and bewilderment. The exhilarating feeling of smooth flesh under my hands was starting to have an effect on me, and he must have felt it, the way I was pressing up on him. I let a long finger, sharp with my pointy nails, penetrate him and for a second I almost thought he would attack me; a wild red rage flashed in his eyes. 

But he did not, of course. How could he? Terrified and shocked, his friends were in the very same room, watching me have my ways with him with expressions ranging from outrage to almost ready to cry out of helpless frustration and fear. I saw cold murder in the Men’s faces, a deepening understanding and fear in Gandalf’s, tear-filled terror in the hobbits, and raw, unhidden rage in the Dwarf’s. Even if the elf managed to somehow get free and kill me, the Uruk-hai would butcher them all before he even had time to turn around. He would care too much about them to let that happen, Ring or not, that much was clear in his eyes. And that was a weakness I would exploit. 

It was really too good an opportunity to let pass; Sauron could know about the Ring tomorrow. I would have some fun first, and He would never know. 

Desire was burning red and hot in me, but it was even more than that; this would be revenge for all things I had had to refrain from, and it would also be the ultimate proof of my triumph over Gandalf. Let’s see if he could save his precious Ringbearer from the doom that waited him now. 

\- Get down on your knees, I commanded with my voice thick of desire. 

The elf spat out a few crude words of defiance and denial that he must have heard from the dwarf. I turned to the closest Uruk-hai, whom had one of the small, insignificant hobbits in front of him. 

\- Kill him, I said flatly with a gesture to the hobbit whose blue eyes got almost as large as the elf’s out of terror. Grinning, the Uruk-hai drew a large dagger, forcing the hobbits head back with a vicious grip in his curly hair. The rest of the Fellowship started to cry out, cursing and pleading, thrashing against the unrelenting hold of the Uruk-hai. One of the other hobbits - the fat one - actually started crying with fear, and Gandalfs face was a study in terror. In the Ringbearers face was a fair tableau of soul rendering agony; pride and self-respect fighting the genuine concern for his tiny friend. 

\- No! Stop! The elf finally cried out as the dagger closed on his friend’s throat, his voice overpowering all the other shouting but ridden with angst. Do not kill him! I will do it; just leave him alone!

I stopped the Uruk-hai with a small gesture, but the edge of the dagger still glimmered on the hobbit’s throat and he was almost standing on his toes in an attempt to relieve the savage pull on his hair and the touch of steel on his skin. His face was pale with terror and his breath came in short, small gasps. 

The elf - the Ringbearer - did not look much better; pale and slightly sickly looking he sank down on his knees on the hard stone floor with the grace that comes so natural to all of his kind. A sudden stillness fell over the room; Uruk-hai and Fellowship both trying to accept what they saw.

\- Saruman…Gandalf started with a voice that sounded very strangled and hesitant, far from his original self, but the elf shot him a glance that killed his words immediately. Instead, Gandalf did the only thing I suppose he felt he could do; he closed his eyes and turned away. 

One by one, the others in the Fellowship did the same. 

I did not care whether they looked on or not; they were here and there were no way they could ever deny to themselves what was about to happen. I felt almost as if floating on air as I approached the elf again, the surges of triumph and desire and power mixed to an almost unbearable rush.

The Uruk-hai started shouting and howling again as I grabbed the elf’s hair - so smooth and golden in my grasp - and pulled him against me. He almost choked at first, but then the warm smoothness enclosed me. Clever tongue and soft lips, not even a suggestion of teeth - it was apparently not the first time he did this, or maybe he just really made an effort to save his friends life and to get it over with as soon as possibly. I forced his head to please me and from the sounds I could tell that I did not give him much chance to breath, but that was none of my concern.

Never before had I experienced such pleasure; never before had I felt such power, with the Ringbearer at my disposal, my enemy helplessly forced to know what I did to him, the Ring of Power so close. The dirty shouts and cheers from the Uruk-hai drove me on until I could not take it anymore. 

\- Swallow, or I will kill you all! I panted needlessly, since there was no way he could get away anyway and almost choked him again as I drove deep into his throat.

Sated and exhausted, I let go of his head. He fell down on the floor by my feet, coughing and retching, curled up as far as he could, trying desperately to wipe his face and mouth on any cloth available. 

The Uruk-hai pulled him upright at my sign, and he recoiled as I lifted a hand to his face, his eyes showing so many feelings; rage, fear, repulsion, humility, that I doubt he himself knew which were the strongest. I let my fingers caress over his cheek, wiped away some of the blood on his chin; his lower lip must have split by my force.

-Now, I said rather kindly, will you tell me where you’ve hidden the Ring. 

\- Never! He hissed, but I saw the fear in his eyes. 

\- I almost hoped you would say that, I told him with a smile. That means we will have to spend some more time together, does it not?

\- Take him up to my private room, I told two of the Uruk-hai, and added as I saw the hunger in their eyes; but do not touch him! He is mine, and I swear that I will throw anyone who as much as grabs him to the wargs!

I was a bit surprised myself at the force of my words; soon enough I would have to give him over to Sauron anyway, and when I got the power He promised me I could have anyone - elf or not - that I desired. But sometimes you have to threaten to get the uruk -hais to really understand. And I most certainly did not want to go where one of them had been before me. 

 

I led the rest up the steep stairs of Isengard; their fury with me warming like a fire. 

\- Have you come to your senses yet Gandalf? I asked smugly. Will *you* tell me where he’s hidden the Ring if pride forbids him to betray it himself?

\- And make his sacrifice useless? My old enemy sounded tired and worn down, almost resigned. I could have listened to that all day, if I had not had the Ringbearer waiting downstairs. Right now I just wanted to get the rest of the Fellowship securely locked away before I could continue my investigations. The very thought fanned the embers of my arousal again.

\- You think that was a sacrifice? You are almost as naïve as he is! I have not even started yet; but do not worry, if he survives the night, I will make sure to send him up here so you can see for yourself what your stubbornness has brought upon him. 

I was totally unprepared to what happened next; filled with the promises for the night and then the reward I would receive once Sauron had the Ring, I paid to little attention to the rest of the Fellowship. 

I heard a roar of fury, and I had only enough time to turn around and see the dwarf break free from his guard, rushing toward me with his ugly face distorted with rage. He crashed into me with the force of a boar, and I lost my balance. My right foot slipped of the stair and lost its foothold; I saw the long, steep deadly stair stretching out into darkness beneath me like a throat ready to swallow me. 

For one second, I actually thought I would die. 

Then, just as sudden, my flaying hand got a hold of something and I pulled myself up, standing steady again. When I turned around I saw that what my hand grasped was Gandalfs arm, still tied behind his back, and still in the firm grip of an Uruk-hai who hold him steady against my weight. For a second our eyes meet, and the knowledge that he, however unwilling, saved my life burned like a flame through me. 

Outraged with fury and the still clinging remnants of death - fear, I let him go and turned to the recaptured dwarf, who was staring up at me, defiance and righteous rage glowing around him like a fire. 

With one single stroke of my staff, I smashed his nose, spreading it all over his face. I hit again, and again, blind with a rage fed not only by the attempt to kill me but also the humiliation of being saved by my enemy. Blood splattered all over the Fellowship, the walls, the Uruk-hai and myself. 

When I finally get a hold of myself, I doubted anyone but a thick-headed dwarf would have survived. Even the Uruk-hai were watching me with something like frightened awe. Panting heavily I drew back, watching my work with some satisfaction; the dwarf’s face is a bloody mess, but consciousness is still gleaming in his eyes; there was no escape from the pain for him, nor from the words I know would pain him even more. 

\- It will not be you who pay the ultimate price for this, I swear it! But worry not, now you friend will survive, and I will make certain he knows who is responsible for everything I will put him through! He will live, even when he begs for death! Take them to the top of the tower and lock them in there! I have other things to do!  
Without another word I turned around and disappeared down the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

Read 'em and weep - for all the hours we'll be spending alone  
Read 'em and weep - for the dreams we'll ignore  
Running silent and deep -  
And all those promises we promised to keep, they won't be kept anymore

 

Saruman:  
The two Uruk-hai waited with their prisoner in my room. The blood on his lip was already starting to dry but that was easily mended; I threw my staff aside and hit him square over the face with my fist; not even the Uruk-hai were prepared for that and they lost their grip. With his hands tied back, he could not keep his balance and he fell heavily to the floor. For the second time he was grovelling at my feet, and I kicked him in the ribs, hard. He didn’t make a sound, and that infuriates me even more. I will make him scream of pain, beg for mercy. 

\- One of your friends almost killed me. My voice was surprisingly even, but I followed it up with more kicks, to his face, his stomach, his groin. I promised him I would let you pay for it, and so I will!

I gestured to the Uruk-hai to pull him up and throw him on my bed. The sheets would be bloodied but if he thought that blood would be the worst thing that smeared him that night he was really naive. I have them tie his arms down to the bedposts, but then I sent the Uruk-hai out; I didn’t want any spectators this time. This was strictly between him and me now. 

With his face pressed to the pillows, I could barely see his eyes, but I didn’t have to; fear was radiating from him even as he tried to repress it. I didn’t bother to ask him where the Ring was; this had nothing to do with that. 

I didn’t even take of either his clothes or mine, just pull down the trousers of both of us. 

His face when I penetrated him was a study in agony; the pain he must have felt as I was almost tearing him apart. I never used any lubrication, pain being such a sweet spice to pleasure. His jaw muscles were working to contain the scream that must have been building inside of him, his eyes were pressed close, and his entire body as stiff as wood as I rode him, ruthlessly and without mercy. My high state of fury and arousal made me come much earlier than I wanted, but it was obvious that it was not early enough for him. That at least calmed me slightly. 

I had not totally forgotten about the Ring either. When I got off of him I could feel his gaze follow me across the room, but I ignored it. The Uruk-hai has placed the assortments of packing that the Fellowship was carrying here, and I searched through it carefully. There was nothing; just food and bedrolls and some weapons. The daggers and bow was obvious of elven making, and that gave me an idea. 

The elf’s eyes followed me when return to the bed, one of his long daggers in my hand, but he didn’t move. Bruises were starting to show on his face, blue and black, and the ropes around his wrists had been cutting in so hard that they was now slick with blood.

I sat down at the side of the bed, letting the light from a lamp - it was night outside - play over the dagger. 

\- I ask you again. Where is the Ring?

He didn’t answer at all, but I had not really expected him to. Instead I turned him around in the bed so that he was now laying on his back; that must have hurt after what I just done to him, but he didn’t let it show. His pride and self restrain was going to make this so much more fun.   
When I put the dagger edge at his throat, he almost recoiled, but then lay still again. The edge cuts through the though leather of his tunic like butter and it didn’t take long before I had freed him from it altogether. Almost carelessly, I threw it into the fire at the fireplace; making him jump a bit, and the unpleasant smell of burning leather filled the room. 

\- How long do you really think you will be able to resist? I ask almost conversely, while I let my hands caress his body under the silk - like cloth he was wearing under the tunic; its sensual touch and the defined muscles underneath makes my desire rise again but I held it back for a little longer. 

\- As long as I have to. 

I laughed again, but not mockingly. 

\- You are really young, are you not? You think this is the worst that can happen to you? You have really no conception of what awaits you once you get to Barad-Dûr?

\- I can guess what will happen to you if you report to the Dark Lord that you have the One Ring, and when we arrive, none of us actually have it. 

There was a touch of defiant smugness in his eyes and it annoyed me. He really thought he could trick me with such an easy lie? I punished him by pinching one of his nipples through the cloth; a sharp pain went over his face, but as if he reads my mind he continued.

\- Even after your creatures caught us, there would have been ample opportunities to get rid of the cursed thing. 

Perhaps he was telling the truth; after all, I was not quite sure elves could actually lie. I grabbed a handful of the silk cloth and ripped it asunder; in the fireplace, the tunic was nothing but smouldering embers, but there was no glimmer of gold amongst them. I tossed the silk in after it, and then I let his footwear go the same way. With only his trousers left, I straddled him, and for a short second, revel in the way he fought to keep the fear from showing on his face. 

Again I caressed his chest, now blooming with bruises from my kicks, but as smooth and firm as ever. His arms were still trying to pull loose from the straps around them, but I knew how vain those attempts were, so instead I concentrate on the feel of his body underneath me. Now I could take the time I wanted, waking my arousal slowly and deliciously, and forgetting to fret about the Ring. That could wait. 

I let my tongue and lips follow up his flat stomach, over the bruised ribs, towards the nipples and let their velvet taste fill my mouth. When I felt them stiffen I felt a sudden surge of pride; let’s see if he could really resist. Exhilarated by this new game I pulled off my own clothes, and his pants, and was surprised again when I saw that he has already started to react. I gave him a smug smile when I straddled him again, caressing him softly but possessively, feeling his body starting to react despite the strain of repressing it that was clear in his face. He refused to meet my eyes, and not even his breathing changed when I slipped my hand down to grab him, even though he was already as hard as I was. 

His face was twisting between feelings, the ones he tried to repress slipping through his restraint again and again. This was a new kind of torture, in a way even more pleasing than the others, turning his own body against him, but I had not expected it to be so easy. That suggested something that I must think about, but not now, not when my own arousal was starting to grow towards the unbearable. The elf was really as desirable as I ever imagined them to be, the knowledge of power so close making him even more so. 

Unable to restrain myself anymore, I turn him around again, and penetrated him a second time. In the same moment I could feel him shrinking away, pain and repulsion again taking possession over his features; hurt was obviously not what turned him on, but why should I care about that? I rode him again, but longer now, not as ruthlessly; enough to satisfy my own taste for pain, but slow enough to make it last. And I could make it last for hours.


	3. Chapter 3

And I've been dying for hours trying to fill up all the holes with some sense  
I'd like to know how you faded and you threw it away  
I'd like to give you all the reasons and what everything meant

 

Gandalf:  
I think we all both dreaded and longed for the morning on that cold night on top of Isengards black tower. Aragorn had done what he could for Gimli’s destroyed face, washing it with what little water we had left, and sowing some of the worst gashes shut, and then taken care of my own head wound. Poor Gimli endured the treatment without a word or complaint, although he must have been in serious pain. Saruman had not held back. 

Boromir talked a lot about escaping, but neither him nor Aragorn could find a way to get away. Around us, the tower dropped down several hundreds of feet, without any kind of handhold. The only way down was through the stairs, and the doors were heavy and locked, and doubtless just as heavily guarded.

And somewhere down there was Legolas, forced to endure what ever Saruman could think of in order to keep the Ring secret. None of us spoke of that, but we all thought of it, and images of what might happen haunted us through the dark night. 

The burden did lie heaviest on Frodo, however, and I don’t think he slept anything that night, just sat with Sam’s arms around him, and stroked the thin line of dried blood that had formed where the Uruk-hai had almost cut his throat. So close to the Ring, that one more second and Saruman would doubtlessly have felt its presence, if Legolas had not sacrificed himself to distract him. The sounds from that are still ringing in my ears, no matter how much I try to block them out. 

It is still hard for me to accept just how much Saruman had changed, from the respected leader of my order, to this power - crazed madman. I suppose he was right; maybe I am naive, but if lack of naiveness was what made him what he became, I will not be sorry for it. 

The fate of Legolas however, devastated me. In some strange way, I felt it was my fault. 

When morning came, we heard the first heavy steps up the stair, and we all came to our feet, tense like bowstrings. A key scraped against the heavy lock, and two or three heavily armed Uruk-hai came through the door, followed by several others. The mocking, lecherous sneers on their faces stung like fire, but there was really nothing we could do, unarmed and unprepared. Even Gimli held back when the creatures made their bawdy remarks. Two of them seemed to be carrying a limp form between them, pale and unmoving, and they threw it down just outside the door before they withdrew with a few more mocking calls. 

As soon as they were gone, we all rushed forward, but for some reason we stopped before we got too close. Legolas was still not moving, lying with his face down on the cold stone; he was naked except for his trousers, and his back was a mass of bruises, but at least it was moving up and down, so he was breathing, and none of the wounds looked serious enough to be unbearable, especially not for an elf. But he lay so still that silent dread crept up on me; had he told Saruman? Was that why he would not meet our eyes? 

First when I took one step closer and sank down on the ground next to him did I realise that he was whispering; the same phrase came over and over again like a litany.   
“Do not touch me. Do not touch me. Do not touch me.”

Horror and understanding hit me then, made me almost cry out in frustration and compassion and rage, but instead I grabbed Gimli’s hand as he hesitantly reached out for Legolas, and both he and the rest of the fellowship must have understood what had happened from the look in my eyes. I ushered them back a bit; this was not a good time to be crowding the elf, and we let him come up on his feet on his own. His chest and face had been beaten up, and he moved as if every muscle in his body ached, his usual grace all but gone. But it was not the physical damages that made me feel sick with helplessness. When he finally stood, he was hunched as if he expected to be hit, every trace of pride gone, and he never once met our eyes. The look of haunted despair in his face cut like a knife, and there were traces of fear there that would not go away. 

With a gesture of compassion that I had not expected from him, Boromir unclasped his heavy cloak and handed it over, careful not to get closer than arms length distance. Legolas snapped it from his hand and wrapped it around himself, so hard that we could see the way his body was shaking underneath. 

The strangled silence that held us all was suddenly broken when Legolas spoke up. 

“He will send for me again at nightfall. His voice was dead and broken as if he spoke of meaningless things. I will tell him nothing, but after that, he will realise that I do not have the Ring. This night he was too…distracted to think straight, but that will not last. Still, that gives you a day and a night to find a way out of here, and escape. Do it.” 

“Oh, my friend. There were tears running down Gimlis cheeks, clear and heavy. It is my fault. I was the one who tried to kill Saruman, otherwise…otherwise this might not have been done to you. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Only if you try again!” A sudden fierceness exploded from Legolas and for a second I think he actually met Gimlis eyes. “And again! And again, until you succeed!” The burst of anger died away, and the voice became hollow once again. But first, escape this place, continue the quest, and then come back for revenge. 

“We will escape, all of us.” Aragorns voice was ragged with emotions, but Legolas shook his head. 

“No. Whatever happens tonight, I do not think I will survive it. You *will* leave me! Do not make my sacrifice be in vain. “

Those last words were directed right at me, and they were such an echo of what I had told Saruman that I could not refuse. I nodded, and it broke my heart. 

After that, the day went by all too fast. Legolas went to sit by one of the pillars that shot up from the floor, his face hidden in his arms and Boromir’s cloak. We all pretended not to see how much it hurt him to sit down, and instead tried to come up with someway to escape Isengard. Since he wanted to be left alone, we let Legolas sit alone, but when midday started to become afternoon Sam snuggled up next to him, and to my surprise he did not get pushed away, but instead Legolas put out an arm around him, pulling him closer. I think we all forget to give Sam enough appreciation for just how comforting and understanding he was. I am sure he did not mention the ugly red welts around Legolas wrists, wounds that could only have come from ropes. 

When night came, we still had no better plan than to try to overpower the Uruk-hai when they came, and I think we all realised just how impossible that would be. We had not eaten since the day they caught us, and we were unarmed.   
When we heard the first heavy treads from the stairs, we gathered the hobbits at the far end of the tower roof and prepared best we could. Legolas was looking haggard and tired; I could not help but wonder if he would be more help than any of the hobbits, but I would rather die than hold him back from fighting for his freedom.   
He had unclasped Boromir’s cloak and handed it to Sam, who now stood cradling it in his arms as if trying to get some of that comfort over to Legolas. In the last, grey light of the day, the bruises on the elf’s body and face were already starting to fade - elves do heal fast - but in his eyes pain still lay fresh. He looked around at all of us, one last glance, and then said:

“Nàmarie. Farewell.”

Before any one of us could answer, the door opened.   
The first Uruk-hai stepped through, holding one of those heavy swords and he was grinning savagely. 

“Saruman wants your arse again, elf-boy…”

He did not get any further before Gimli’s head hit him straight in the stomach, forcing the air from his lungs and almost pushing him down the long stairs again. The dwarf was roaring incoherently, swinging wildly around him, making the door entrance chaos. Aragorn had ducked under the dwarfs attack and whisked away the sword the first Uruk-hai had dropped, but he was not used to either its weight or its odd shape, and he and Boromir fought futilely to keep the Uruk-hai from gaining entrance. I was supposed to cover the other side of the door, but unarmed and without my staff, there was little I could do. Swearing and fighting the uruks drove us back, step by step. Gimli got another hit in his face, and the pain must have been too much this time; he dropped unconscious. Boromir got an ugly slash over his arm, and a hard sword stroke made Aragorn loose the sword; but the uruks must have received orders not to harm us seriously, for although they had plenty of chances, there were no killing strokes. 

I got pushed down, held against the floor under a heavy boot, rendered helpless again, but it was at this time I first got a chance to cast a glance at Legolas. I had thought he had resigned, than he would just wait in his fate like some rabbit when the snakes got its eyes on it. The uruks must have thought something similar. 

None of us were prepared to what really happened. 

When I first saw him, two uruks were already laying at his feet, one with its head crushed and the other with a snapped neck. Legolas had not bothered with their cumbersome swords; he fought with his bare hands, and he exploited every opportunity he got from the uruks not daring to kill him. One of them rushed forward and reached out a long, hairy arm to grab him, but the elf was much, much faster and he pulled the uruk forwards, over his outstretched leg, making it lose balance, and the shout of fear as it plunged over the tower roof seemed to last a very long time. 

Moving like a vengeful shadow, his eyes burning with rage, but a cold and concentrated rage, totally unlike the dwarfs and fed by despair and the knowledge that he would die anyway this night, he was as terrible an opponent as I have ever seen any of his kind be. For a short while, I almost thought he could defeat them all.

Of course he could not. Finally, one of the fallen got a hold of his foot, and when he turned around and kicked it in the face with such force that its neck snapped back, another threw itself over him. He tried to shake it of, but a third got his legs, and felled him to the ground. Thrashing and still fighting, they lifted him up and swearing tried to carry him down the stairs. The last we saw was the golden hair, casting to and fro like a banner in a wind of war. Then the door was slammed shut.


	4. Chapter 4

I've been whispering softly, trying to build a cry up to a scream  
We let the past slip away, and put the future on hold  
Now the present is nothing but a hollowed out dream

Saruman:  
It took far too long for my Uruk-hai to fetch the elf, and I had almost got out of my room when I heard the first sounds of their approach. They were swearing and cursing, and there were sounds of some kind of fight going on; I must say, for a second I almost thought the elf had put on the Ring and was now steering my own army against me. Then the first uruk - hai came through the door, a heavy bruise building around his eye, and a strange limp in his leg. 

“He is here, master, he grumbled. But he is dangerous today…”

“I will not hear any excuses,” I snapped from the tension of my fearful suspicions. “Bring him in! Tie him down again.”

Not two, but four Uruk-hai came in, bearing the struggling elf, one for each limb. He had fresh bruises and a few shallow cuts on the old ones that were fading since yesterday, and he was thrashing around like a wounded animal. 

It took quite some work just to get him in to the room, and I realised what a mess it would be to get him in the bed. Sighing, I grabbed my staff, and brought it down on his struggling body without really aiming. I heard the crack of bone; my stroke had hit him on the side and a few ribs snapped. 

That seemed to drive the air out of him, however, at least long enough for the Uruk-hai to be able to tie him down properly. Once the ropes were firmly fastened, he seemed to sink down, resigned, but I did not trust the desperation in his eyes. 

The Uruk-hai were still cursing elves when I sent them out. 

“That was unnecessary,” I pointed out as I closed the door behind them. 

He did not bother to answer, just closed his eyes tightly and clenched his jaws in an unrelenting way. 

“You do realise you will have to pay for this little struggle, do you not?”

He was so tense he actually jumped when I touched his swollen face, and followed the bruises with a careful hand. It was a bit disturbing; I had tried to think of how to get him to tell me about were he had hidden the Ring all day, but I did not seem to be able to get last night’s adventures out of my mind. 

Well, that was not really a problem. It could be combined.

“Where is the Ring, my fair one? Just tell me, and you will be free.” 

That was a lie, of course, and he knew it as well as I, but the very point of torture is to let the victim believe that he has some chance of escape. Pain him long enough, and he will believe the most feeble lies. 

I started to caress his beautiful body again, thinking of how I might never grew tired of the look and feel of an elven body, exploring every long, lean muscle, tasting the blood that had been spilled over his skin, even adding a little myself as I bit in to his shoulder - hard enough to draw blood and leave marks of my teeth that may never go away. His body involuntary tried to jerk away then, but otherwise he lay as still as a dead. 

Although not entirely. Once I got as far down as the lining of his trousers - which I had let him keep since I did not entirely trust the Uruk-hai with a naked elf - it was obvious that my attentions were starting to get at him, whether he tried to hide it or not. 

That was curious, and one of the many things about him that had disturbed my thinking today. Slowly and carefully I folded down the trousers and got the satisfaction of seeing his hips involuntary move up slightly. Something was exciting him, but I still did not know what it was. 

Not that I really cared, but the agony of his face was a beautiful sight. As I started teasing him with hands and mouth, the recollection of making him do so to me in front of Gandalf and the others came back, arousing me even further.   
I turned him around. Enough of that, however pleasant the sight of his internal turmoil - whatever its source - was, it was nothing compared to this, even though he again shrunk away at the pain. The raw desire that gripped me when I rode him hit my libido with such force, it compelled me to go deeper and deeper, but the sight of his agony and pain as I pressed his face into the pillows were not enough; I wanted to hear him whimper and plead; I wanted to hear him beg. Beg. Yes, that would be the sweetest of all, would it not? 

I pressed my hand against his broken ribs, but when that did not work, I hit him again, now with my fist. A sharp sound of pain came through his gritted teeth. Encouraged, I grabbed a hold of his hair, pulled it back so hard he was forced up on his hands and knees, and still his head was being pulled back.   
I do not know for how many hours I rode him so, forced on by the touch of his smooth skin against mine and the few cries of agony and pain that he could not hide. 

I must have fallen asleep on top of him, exhausted and worn down, for when I woke up, our faces were so close we breathed the same air. Large blue eyes were watching me dreamily, a soft warmth there that I had never seen before, a sense of love and obedience that for a moment gripped my soul. Then I realised that he was sleeping, eyes open as is the habit of his kind. He had escaped into dreams, brought up some old memory of love to let his pained mind rest in. 

It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen, and I realised then that I wanted it with all my soul. A jealous possession had awoken in me, and there was no reason why I should let it go. Sauron wanted the Ring; let Him have it. But the Ringbearer was staying with me. Maybe I could send some of the others; not the hobbits of course, He would never believe that, but one of the Men perhaps. That would-be king of Gondor would suit fine.   
But first I had to know where the Ring was, but there was no hurry with that either; Sauron could not possibly know that I had succeeded to capture the fellowship, and if He found out in a few days, it would mean nothing. 

Of course, it would take some work to get the elf the way I wanted him; to get him to look at me with that unhidden love and desire that made his face so soft now, but it was not impossible. Everyone could be broken, and both of us had all the time in the world. All the time. 

I realised that I held something in my fist and when I opened it I saw a handful of golden hairs; I must have pulled them out with the roots last night. I wrapped them around my finger; they were ever as golden and full as the Ring of Power. 

Power. Yes, of course! So that was the answer to his little secret.

I could not restrain myself, but stroke my hand over his face and hair, much as you might pet an animal.   
He woke immediately, and the look in his eyes changed at once. A flash of hate, and then repulsion, humility, fear, in an endless cavalcade. He tried to move away, but was held back by the bloodied ropes. 

“I know your secret know,” I mumbled, caressing his lean back, enjoying the disgust that swept over him at my touch. “It is power. You have been exposed to the One Ring too long, and it had got a hold on you. Power now excites you, to be at the mercy of something - or someone - stronger. If had not captured you, it would just have been a matter of time before you had totally succumbed to the Ring.”   
The wave of raw, unhidden fear that swept his face then confirmed my guess.


	5. Chapter 5

If I could find the words then I would write it all down  
If I could only find a voice I would speak  
Oh it's there in my eyes so can't you see me tonight  
C'mon and look at me and read 'em and weep

 

Gandalf:  
It was by far the worst night in my life, the second night on top of Isengard’s tower. Gimli had broken down at the very moment he came to his senses, and was now crying as if his heart was broken. It probably was. All of our hearts were, but apart from the dwarf we seemed to have settled into heavy resignation. We just sat still, watching the slow hours of the night pass by, unable to even try to find another escape, as Legolas had willed us with his last wish.   
When the door started to open, no one did anything but look up tiredly, awaiting the decision of whom would be the next one to be taken to the hell down stairs. 

The Uruk-hai came in a lot more carefully this time, and they did not stop to brag; instead they just threw in a staggering figure through the door and slammed it shut. I was so surprised to see Legolas, standing rather insecurely as if he would fall over at any moment, that I did not first even react. In my mind he was already dead, and now he was here, even more beaten up than last night, his face even more haunted and fearful, eyes dizzy as if he had problems to concentrating on reality, but alive. Alive!

Gimli gave such a roar of happiness that it woke us all from the feeling of unreality and before Legolas could fend him of, he had thrown his arms around his chest as far up as he could reach, and was hugging him hard, wetting them both with even more tears. A sharp pain flashed over the elf’s face and he carefully but firmly removed the dwarf’s arms. 

“My ribs are broken,” he explained tiredly. “And please do not touch me.” 

But he did not remove his hand from Gimlis shoulder, and I do not think he would have been able to remain standing without the support. Gimli was glaring protectively at the rest of us, warning us not to get too close, but he did at least let Boromir loan Legolas his cloak again.

When the first joyful surprise had lessened somewhat, I could see that the elf was in an even worse state today. Hair seemed to have been pulled out with the roots from parts of his head, the skin around the broken ribs started to get black, and his wrists were raw from struggling against the ropes. There was an ugly bite mark on his shoulder, still dripping blood. He was swaying where he stood, apparently just a few seconds away from falling down. But the greatest change was in his face; the fear had deepened, self-disgust marred his features. There was a new kind of desperation in his eyes and when he looked straight at me. I could barely withstand the force of it. 

“Tell me it is safe, Mithrandir,” he whispered with the voice of someone whom is vainly searching for light in the darkness. “Tell me it is safe!”

Of course I did not have to ask what he meant; he would not go through this if not for one thing. 

“It is secret,” I assured him, wishing there were any other way I could ease his pain, “It is safe.” 

He nodded, a touch of relief softening his features, and then he slowly fell over and would have hit the hard stone if Aragorn had not rushed forward and caught him, letting him down slowly and covering the broken body with the cloak. 

He stayed unconscious for half the day, his head resting in Gimlis lap and wrapped in the heavy cloak. When the sun touched noon he woke with a sudden startle that made him bolt up straight, shadows of fear darkening his face. Before anyone could react he had pushed the dwarf away from him, dangerously close to the edge of the roof. Wild eyed, he came to his feet, backing away, before he came to his senses and realised where he was. 

“Forgive me!” he cried, fell to his knees to help Gimli up, but the dwarf, accepting his hand, just shook his head. 

“ Do not ask forgiveness, not you, not here! What ever you have to do, you are saving our lives and more than that, and you should never have to apologise for that.”

Awe stricken, Legolas just watched him, unable to believe the all compassing forgiveness he had received. For half a second I thought he would embrace both the dwarf and his words, but then he sank back, and his shoulders slumped again. 

“I do wish I could believe that.”

He rose up and limped over to the edge of the roof, standing still as a statue, still wrapped in the heavy cloak. He could have jumped then; none of us were close enough to stop him if he tried, but of course he would not. If he did, there would be nothing to stop Saruman from taking the Ring. We had all sworn to die in the defence of the Ring, but to go on living in the face of such incomprehensible evil? Had anyone ever made such a sacrifice against the dark before?

A small voice next to me made me turn around to see Pippin standing by my side, watching the elf with something close to fear. His very young, innocent face was twisted into fear ridden confusion. 

“Gandalf?” He asked with a small voice. “What…what is it really he has done? Or, I mean, what is it Saruman had done to him? I do not understand…”

He gave me a look of almost morbid curiosity, repelled and compelled at the same time.

“Do you really want to know, Peregrine?” I asked him sincerely. “Do you really?”

We watched our broken friend, the fear that shone from his eyes, the way he seemed to want to withdraw from his own body, and finally a small shiver worked its way over Pippins back. 

“No,” he said in a small voice. “I do not think so.”

He turned around and went back to the other hobbits, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground and there was a new shadow over his formerly so sunny face.   
Pippin’s question, however, made me summon the courage that I had been trying to find, and I finally got up and moved over to Legolas, careful to make sure he heard me coming. Still, he startled when I moved up next to him. 

“I can’t start to ask forgiveness for all of this,” I said, meaning every word. “I never understood just how evil Saruman was - I suppose I never wanted to understand that one of my own could do such things.” 

“You could not know.” He refused to look up on me, but there was an intensity in his voice as if I had touched a subject that affected him deeply. “Sometimes…sometimes I suppose evil can be found at the most unlikely places.” 

 

The words made me cold as ice; was he saying what I feared?

“He is getting to you, is he not?” I whispered. 

For a short second, I thought he was going to hit me, and I know I would have deserved that; doubting him after all he had done. But then the heavy resignation came over him again, betrayed only by the short shakes that rattled his body. 

“Not yet. Not yet. But Mithrandir…I do not know for how much longer I can resist. Do not ask any more. I must face this alone.” 

The infinite, soul wrecking sorrow in his voice made me turn around and leave before I could even begin to understand his words. 

When nightfall came, the uruks came to fetch him again, but this time there was no resistance. Legolas must have known that our eyes followed him as he let himself get caught without as much as a glance of defiance, for he tried to walk straight and with courage.   
I cannot begin to tell how much it hurt me that he failed.


	6. Chapter 6

Read 'em and weep - for the magic that our bodies had made  
Read 'em and weep - for the blood that we lost  
Running silent and deep - and all the secrets that we somehow betrayed  
For whatever the cost

Saruman:

“I will break you,” I told him as he was once again tied down to the bed. “Whether you tell me where the Ring is or not, you will never get out of here.” 

I let my long fingers and nails scrape over his half-healed ribs, teasing the tender nerves on the bruised flesh, knowing that it must send whips of pain up his side. 

“Once I am done with you, you will not even want to leave; once I am done, you will be my slave. When we first met you said you would never freely give me anything, but believe this; you will beg me to be your master. The influence of the Ring will make it even easier.” 

I was not as unsubtle as to say right out that in surrendering the Ring, he might resist for a little longer, but I could see that he understood it. He was tense as a coiled snake this evening, but he had not made the slightest move of resistance. I knew that the part of him that the Ring had twisted was already starting to look forward towards what he knew was coming. Not the pain, not yet, but that would come. This longing for submission was as good a start as anyone could hope for. 

I worked his body with all my skill that night, bringing him so close to the high point of climax as I could without crossing it before I did something - rake sharp nails across his chest, squeeze him far to hard, dig in my fingers in his broken ribs, and finally, when I could not hold back anymore, ride him hard and ruthlessly again - to bring his excitement down again before I started all over. 

He would learn to associate pain with pleasure, sooner or later, if that was the only escape he could find. 

When I felt I had done as good nights work as I could I sent him back up, but this time I had the Uruk-hai bring up some food and water for the prisoners; although starvation might help to break them, I did not want my Ringbearer to be too weak from hunger to know what I did to him. What would be the fun in that? He should be conscious of his own slow defeat, and I wanted the others to know as well. 

I even made the Uruk-hai bring up some extra water, enough to wash in. Let’s see if he would use it or not. 

Gandalf:  
When the food arrived, the hobbits threw themselves over it like starved animals, which did not surprise anyone, but I think we all hesitated a bit over the way Legolas started to tear at large pieces of bread, although of course, his days and nights had been a lot more strenuous than for the rest of us, locked up in inactivity up here. There was meat as well, but Aragorn kicked it over the roof, and I do not think anyone would have eaten it anyway.

Legolas did not look as physically bad this morning; there where only a few new bruises and some sharp but shallow mark of nails, but he had not said a word since the uruks led him up, and his eyes seemed to cloud over with dark thoughts, just to be lit up with fear the next second. Some stable ground in his mind seemed to be shaking, and that scared me even more than the beatings had. 

The bathing water also made him react unpredictably. It arrived in large steaming bowls, such an unexpected gift that I think we were all baffled, uncertain of what this might mean. All but Legolas that is. 

As soon as he understood what it was the uruks had carried up, he flew into a fit of rage, such as I had never seen before, as far from his cold rage two nights ago as the sun is from the stars. Cursing and swearing, he started to throw the heavy barrels over the roof, spilling the warm, soapy water all over the stone, tears running down his face. Boromir and Aragorn rushed up and tried to hold him back; Aragorn got hit straight in the face and went wheeling across the roof, and Boromir only managed to escape the same by hair. Swearing, the man managed to get a heavy grip on the elf and wrestle him down. 

That was a mistake. 

Caught under the heavy weight of Boromir, Legolas went desperate, almost hysterical to get free. Sobbing and calling out curses in at least four different languages, he managed with the strength that comes from real fear to squeeze free, and stumbling he reached the end of the roof where he threw up all the food he had eaten over the edge. 

I do not think anyone of us dared to move, and the knowledge that the turmoil of emotions that ravaged us then was nothing compared to what he went through was no comfort at all. Even Gimli looked stunned, unable to find any words, or what to do. 

Finally, Aragorn got up, and went over to Legolas reaching out a hand for his shoulder. 

“Do not touch me!” Legolas voice was almost shrill and hysteria still clung to its edges. “Do not touch me!”

“We could use the washing water…”Aragorn started hesitatingly; a large blue bruise was starting to form on his cheek. 

“Pour it out once you are done! Do not leave any for me to…for me to…,” he started crying then, and of all the emotions I had seen him go through, I think this was the most frightening.   
“I cannot win, can I?” He asked without waiting for an answer, tears welling down his face.   
“Leave the water Aragorn. Why not, after all? I might just as well be clean to please my master.”

“Master?” The fear was clear in Aragorns voice, strangled and small though it sounded.

“What did you think was going on downstairs?” He almost laughed, without any trace of joy and without stopping the tears. “You are just as naive as I was. Lets hope that you, at least, will stay that way.” 

 

Aragorn turned and fled. 

We did use the water; as Legolas had said, why not? We certainly could use it, after days without. Even the elf used it, after the rest of us were done. I do not know of he imagined that was some last shred of resistance, to wait until the rest of us had used it. If he did, it was a rather pathetic such, but sometimes you take what ever you can.   
He did however ask us to turn away when he washed, and that at least showed something healthy; he was not about to let us know for certain what had been done to him. 

It could have been a beautiful day, full of hope and promises; the sun was shining and the sky was clear, the wind and warmth soon dried us, and we were clean and had eaten for the first time in days. But it was not, and I started to doubt that any day would ever feel beautiful again, not now that we had learned just how close darkness could lie. And hope? Had it always been this rare?


	7. Chapter 7

If I could find the words then I would write it all down  
If I could only find a voice I would speak  
Oh it's there in my eyes so can't you see me tonight  
C'mon and look at me and read 'em and weep

Saruman:  
It did take longer than I thought to break him, but it was much more pleasure than work, and to see that stubborn core of resistance slowly starting to fade away, bit by bit, gave me all the encouragement I ever needed. 

The first night that he had tears on his cheeks from the agony of being torn between pain and pleasure was my first triumph, and the salty taste of the tears as I kissed them away was a sweet reward. After that came the night when we had fallen asleep again, exhausted after my nights work, and I awoke by him calling out my name in angst and need, his body betraying where his dreams had taken him. 

Ah, but the true measure of his slow submission could only be read in his eyes; there was still fear, but the hate seemed to have died away, and the repulsion was slowly getting replaced by yearning. 

There were times when I saw actual eagerness and desire in his eyes, and those were the days when I melted pain and pleasure in his mind, until one day he could no longer tell the difference. 

The first time he could not resist, when I had driven him too close to climax before I pushed into him and he spilled out over the sheets, the old turmoil of agony was clear in his face, fear and hate and repulsion, but his eyes were dim with desire. 

Of course, this was only the start, but it was an important step. 

Gandalf:  
The changes that came over Legolas during the weeks that followed were frightening. The smouldering fire of resistance, the fits of rage and fear, even the request not to touch him, they all died away. He no longer carried very many bruises, the raw skin around his wrists started to heal once he no longer tried to resist the ropes, and he did not defy the uruks when they came to get him. If anything, he seemed restless and annoyed when they took too long, pacing the tower roof like a caged animal. At first, I told myself it was because he wanted to get the night over with, but that excuse started to sound more and more hollow.

At last Boromir, going slightly desperate with the feelings of frustration and the fading hope that haunted us all, came straight out and accused him of actually looking forward to being abused, and when Legolas did not answer with anything but a rather lecherous smile, the man hit him, out of frustration and hopelessness. 

The elf must have seen the fist come flying, he most certainly could have stopped it or avoided it, but he did not. Instead he let the fist hit him, and tumble him over on the hard stone, but even as he looked up on the man standing above him, there was a glimmering of sick desire in his eyes, and an obvious excitement showing under his ragged trousers. 

Disgusted and shocked, Boromir backed away. 

The hobbits started to avoid Legolas after that day, and Boromir would not even recognise him when the uruks brought him up each morning, now more of an honour guard than any real guard. No one really expected him to try to break free again. Aragorn did not seem to know what to think, changing between fiercely protecting the integrity of Legolas against Boromir’s accusations and giving the elf looks as if afraid he would kill us all in our sleep. I tried too stay clear of the entire thing, to uncertain of what was really going on to dare state any opinions. I did, however, stick to the old routine of telling him as soon as he came in through the door that ”It is safe”, even after he had started to ignore my words. 

Only Gimli stuck by him without hesitations, and I never did see anything but confidence in his eyes, except possibly pain and rage over what his friend went through. 

But sadly, I do not think even he was very surprised when they stopped bringing him up in the mornings altogether. 

Saruman:  
I could actually tell the very moment that I broke him. He was practically shaking with pent up exhilaration as soon as the Uruk-hai brought him down; his face was swollen from a hard punch, but the eyes where glimmering with desire. 

“What is this,” I asked, following the traces of a fist on his face; he almost pressed himself against my touch like a petted cat. 

“Boromir hit me,” he answered without a seconds hesitation. “He said I was betraying them.” 

 

Them. Not us. He no longer saw himself as part of the fellowship, then, and if this bruise was any measure, neither did they. 

I had him tied down, and removed our clothes carefully. He was responding to my every touch like my fingers were sending lightning through his body. I had barely laid my self on top of him, before he started panting heavy, his strong fingers digging deep into the pillow on each side of his head. 

“Please,” he whispered, trying to press his body up against mine. “Please…I need this…”

My heart started to beat faster, and not just from arousal. This was it, this was the breaking I had been working towards. I leaned forward, sucking gently on the tip of his delicate ear. That earned me a moan. 

“Please? You are begging me, then?”

“Yes! I beg of you…master.”

 

The triumph I felt then was only surpassed by the look in his eyes; desire and submission, obedience and, most precious of all, a trace of something close to love. 

I almost granted his will there and then, but I kept my head clear. Instead I just slid our bodies together, touching him all over his length. His breathing almost stopped before it broke out in a heavy sigh. 

“And if I do, what will you do for me?”

“Anything you want, master!” he moaned, “Anything at all!”

“Will you give me the Ring?”

There was almost a smile on his face, as if all I wanted was this insignificant object, it was no sacrifice at all. 

“Of course. Anything. I will lead you to it. “

I untied the ropes on his wrists then, and the pain and pleasure we shared that night was not like anything I have ever experienced. He did anything I commanded, without a seconds hesitation, and the sweet submission in his every move almost made me forget about the Ring again. 

I had had new clothes sown up for him, my new pet, and I made him put them on the next morning. He is posing in them, basking in my appreciation, the will to please me burning in his eyes. 

Once I had looked my fill on his beauty, I pulled him close with a painful grip on his golden hair, but of course by now the hurt only excited him. 

“Now. Where is the Ring?”

“I have it not. But one of the halflings does. I will show you.”

 

So I was wrong! He was not the Ringbearer after all, but that no longer mattered very much; the Ring would be mine anyway, and once I got the power Sauron promised me, there would be nothing left for me to want; my life will be perfected. I tugged his hair once more, just to hear him moan, before we left together for the roof.


	8. Chapter 8

Read 'em and weep - for the memories still alive in the bed  
Read 'em and weep - for the lies we believed  
Running silent and deep - and all the things that can never be said  
Com on and look at me, read ’em and weep

Saruman:  
There was some turmoil amongst the prisoners when we arrived, the shock of seeing me again making them hesitate and fear, and they backed away to the very edges of the roof. I brought three Uruk-hai with me, just to be on the safe side, but from the tired, hopeless looks on the faces of the remnants of the fellowship, I doubt they would be needed. The hate from my old enemy was making this so much more pleasing, and the loathing in their eyes when they looked at their former friend at my side was confirming my every hope. He was clinging to me like a leaf in a storm, but at my command, he sank down on his knees by my side, although he still kept an arm wrapped around my leg and the side of his face pressed against my thigh. Love and obedience was radiating from his face. 

“Him.” He points at the hobbit who is trying to hide behind the others. “He has the Ring.” 

“Legolas, no!” the cry of heartbreaking defiance from the dwarf echoed over the roof, but the elf did not even look away.

Filled with triumph, still I was not taking any risks; not this time. I let the Uruk-hai move the others aside, leaving the tiny hobbit alone and helpless; as I suspected there was practically no resistance. Seeing their former friend at my leach must have broken their last hope. 

I started to walk towards the little Ringbearer, who was throwing desperate glances around for an escape. There is none, of course. I stop in front of him, and reach out my hand. 

“Give it to me, or I will take it.” 

He obviously remembered me using the same words from the last time he saw me; the same day I started breaking his friend, because he did not even hesitate. Wide-eyed with fear he removed a chain around his neck, and dangling from it was the One Ring. 

I felt my elf’s arms around me from behind, closing around me; the sight of the Ring of Power as arousing for him as it was for me, and when I took the chain, I wondered if I should not throw him down and ride him right here, in front of them all. Arousal and triumph welled up inside me, with the Ring in my grasp and the strong obedient arms around me. 

The next thing I felt was a sharp pain, and then darkness wells up on all sides around me and swallowed me whole. 

Gandalf:  
I knew we were lost at the very moment Saruman walked out on the roof with Legolas like a beaten but obedient dog at his side. The uruks no longer mattered then; I think our spirits were already too broken for any kind of resistance. And then all our fears came true when Legolas pointed straight at Frodo and named him the Ringbearer. 

I could not even begin to hate him. He had done all he could to resist, but it had not been enough. How can you blame anyone for that?

We were pushed aside by the uruks, and like soulless sheep we just stood waiting. Legolas was clinging to Saruman, not even looking at the rest of us, but he was pushed back so that Saruman alone could claim the Ring. That did not stop him from grovelling up the wizard’s back however. The submissive, pathetic yearn of his attention made me almost sick. I could but pray that I would never have to find out just what Saruman had done to him.

First I did not understand what I saw, when the sharp red flower blossomed on Sarumans chest, not even when the blood started spilling out over on Legolas fingers, curled around the handle of one of his own daggers. Slowly, Saruman started falling backwards, into the elf’s arms, still cradled around him in a lovers’ embrace, but his eyes where already dead and the fingers holding the chain with the Ring were losing their grip. 

The uruks, with their backs towards the scene, did not know what was happening, not until the elven dagger cut the first ones throat, splattering blood all over the roof. Only then did the other two start to turn, but before they had time to cry a warning, the dagger was already deeply buried in the first ones neck, and the other one receive a blow hard enough to make him fall unconscious and after that, was killed by a hard kick on the head. 

Frodo was the first one to react; he dashed for the Ring and held it tight against his chest, but the rest of us just stared at Legolas, not able to comprehend what has just happened. 

“I hid the dagger under the pillows the first night he had used it on me,” he explained, as if that was our greatest question now. “He never remembered it again.” 

His face was heavily marked by so many emotions, and the eyes betrayed the soul-rendering turmoil inside him, but he was standing straighter than I had seen him in weeks, although he still did not meet anyone’s eyes. 

Suddenly he sank down crossed legged, as if all the last remnants of strength had left him, just a few feet from his former master, but without as much as glancing at the body of the dead wizard.

“For the fears and pain I have caused you all, I can only start to ask forgiveness…,” he started, but was abruptly interrupted. 

“If you start asking for forgiveness now, I think I will kill you myself!” Laughing like mad, Gimli rushed forward and embraced the elf, and this time he was not pushed away; instead he was fiercely hugged back. 

“Thank you. Thank you. You will never know what a comfort your friendship has been.” 

Tears were running down both their cheeks, and I think it was the sight of them that released us all from our stunned hesitation. 

Laughing and crying we all tried to embrace him at the same time, and he accepted every one, even from a very embarrassed Boromir. 

“I am really so sorry I hit you,” the man stammered, “but I did not understand…” 

“I know, I know. It had to be done, to convince him. But let’s not talk about it, not ever again.   
Our packs and weapons are in Saruman’s room, a few stairs down. There will not be any guards there, not now. We can escape by the tunnels underneath Orthanc.” 

That made us come to our senses, and we quickly started to move towards the stairs. Not until we reached them did we realise that Legolas was lagging behind. He was standing staring down over the body of Saruman, an unreadable look on his face. 

“I will come, soon.” He did not turn around towards us. “Give me a second alone.” 

“You will not do anything foolish?” Gimli asked worried, glancing at the steep height around the roof. 

“No.” Legolas smiled faintly. “No, not anymore. Go now. I will be with you again soon.” 

We never did found out what he did, alone on the roof with the body of the man that had caused him so much pain, that had done his best to crush his will and soul, and been so close to succeeding. In some ways he even had managed to break him, and the twisted ways that had been imprinted in the elf’s mind would be just as painful to straighten as they had been to force on him, if anyone would ever manage it. 

Did he cut up Saruman’s body, frenzied with rage and vengeance against what he had been forced to do, or did he leave one last kiss on the wizards cold lips?  
Whatever he did, it was some kind of closure, and with his friends around him, perhaps that will be enough. We must all hope so, but I once again find that hope is not so scarce as I once feared, there on the roof of Isengard. 

It's there in my eyes and coming straight from my heart  
It's running silent and angry and deep  
It's there in my eyes and it's all I can say, c'mon and read 'em and weep

Lyrics by: Meatloaf, Read ‘em and weep

 

The End


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